


Breathe Me

by murdermewithbooks



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Bombing, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, F/M, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25020856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdermewithbooks/pseuds/murdermewithbooks
Summary: from a request on tumblr: "i thought i lost you" kiss (inspired by the song Breathe Me by Sia)~~~“Cyar’ika,” he croaks out as he leans forward, brushing strands of hair from your face. The corner of your mouth quirks up as your thumb travels along his bottom lip, “Din,” you repeat with a little more strength in your voice.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Comments: 13
Kudos: 107





	Breathe Me

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not gonna lie, this one is a little heavy. i apologize in advance, but i’ve been going through some stuff and this is all i could come up with today. feel free to yell at me in the comments 😅 (also, i’m not super versed in star wars terminology so, sorry if this is cringey af)

“How about this one?” you walk over to Din, holding the satchel you just picked out for him to see. He inspects the item down to the very last stitch before nodding once, “This should work.”

His helmet tilts downward, aimed towards the child who stands between the two of you, his big eyes blinking with curiosity. “No more running off for you, you little womp rat,” Din tells him, a hint of playfulness in his tone. He bends down and picks up the child with ease, handing the satchel over for you to hold open as he places the little one inside. 

Biting your lip, you ask, “Are you sure it’s not too small for him?” just before the child giggles with delight. Din lightly scratches behind the little one’s ear, coaxing another fit of chitters from him, “He seems to like it,” he says with a slight shrug.

You hum in agreement, grinning at the child as he starts to doze off in the comfort of his new mode of transportation. “I guess he does,” you chuckle, extending your hand out to take the satchel. Din hands it over without hesitation and you drape the strap over your shoulder, securely holding the bag containing the child in your arms. He then goes to pay the shopkeeper, leaving you and the child alone.

Under the guise of his visor, he stops and watches you lightly sway from side to side, your back to him as you lull the child into a deep slumber. The sight of you fills his chest with warmth. It’s a feeling that just a few months ago he wouldn’t have imagined he’d be lucky enough to experience. But as you turn to glance in his direction, your eyes bright and a soft smile tugging at your lips, he commits this feeling - this moment - to memory.

He takes a step forward, but before he can close the distance between you, a large blast sends you flying in the opposite direction - the child still in your arms. The shockwaves of the blast toss him back as well, the brick walls surrounding the small shop crumbling to the ground as more blaster fire rains down from the sky.

His ears ring inside his helmet as he struggles to fill his lungs with air, the wind having been knocked out of him when he landed roughly on his back. He coughs a few times, wheezing until he starts to breathe normally again. As soon as he catches his breath, he sits up, shoving pieces of debri off his armor-clad body. 

Stumbling to his feet, his heart hammers painfully against his ribs as he shouts your name repeatedly. The Imps must’ve tracked him somehow, but he can hardly think straight as panic starts to set in. There’s a pause in the air assault and as the dust slowly clears, he spots your unmoving form and the satchel resting on your chest, your legs trapped underneath a slab of duracreete a few meters away.

Rushing to your side, he feels the slightest sense of relief upon seeing the little one’s eyes wide open, watching Din’s anxious approach until he reaches the two of you. He uses all his strength, grunting from his efforts, to heave the large object off of you. 

Another round of blaster fire plummets down just as he moves the object off your legs and he throws himself on top of you and the child, shielding you from the attack. “We can’t stay here,” he shouts, though he’s not sure if you’re even conscious.

There’s another pause in blaster fire and he doesn’t waste time as he lifts you off the ground with the child wedged between your bodies. He moves as fast as he can with you in his arms, not resting until you and the little one are safe within the walls of the Razor Crest. When his ship comes into view, he glances down at your face, his heart sinking at the sight of blood and dust decorating your skin. Your eyes are closed, your brow furrowed in what can only be pain from your various injuries.

“We’re almost there. Hold on - just breathe,” he’s not sure if he’s speaking to you or himself, but his tone is desperate all the same. Once inside the ship, he gently sets you on the ground while removing the satchel and placing the child - who appears to be unscathed - atop a crate nearby.

After securing the ship’s defenses, he rushes back to your side and removes his gloves to inspect your injuries. He waits for you to groan or wince in pain, but you’re completely still. And that’s when he notices your chest isn’t moving. 

_No. No, no no._

He feels for a pulse under your jaw, but there’s nothing. _She’s_ \- “No,” he breathes, quickly reaching for the release switch of his helmet and removing it. He leans over you, lightly tapping your cheek, your head rolling to the opposite side, “C’mon, wake up!” his voice cracks on a shout.

Sitting up on his knees, he places both hands on the center of your chest, one hand covering the other as he starts pumping downwards in a steady, rapid tempo. “C’mon, c’mon,” he mutters with every compression. He stops to blow two lungfuls of air into your mouth only to sit up and start compressions again.

He does this three more times until, finally, you inhale a raspy gulp of air, coughing as you breathe out. His heart leaps with joy, his chest heaving from exertion as you slowly open your eyes, murmuring, “Din?”

It’s only then he remembers he isn’t wearing his helmet, leaving his face exposed for you to see. But instead of heart-stopping panic, he feels a sense of relief wash over him - the weight of his hidden identity falling away as your eyes meet his for the first time.

Your eyes widen slightly as you bring a shaky hand to his cheek and mutter something he can’t quite make out. This is the first time he’s seeing you, too, and the only thing he can think of is how much more beautiful you are without the subtle tint from his helmet’s visor.

“Cyar’ika,” he croaks out as he leans forward, brushing strands of hair from your face. The corner of your mouth quirks up as your thumb travels along his bottom lip, “Din,” you repeat with a little more strength in your voice. 

A tear glides down your cheek and he swipes it away, stroking your cheek with his thumb just before crashing his lips against yours. Neither of you move for a moment as the shock of finally being this close to one another takes over.

He pulls his mouth from yours just far enough to look into your eyes, _they’re lighter than I thought_ , he thinks to himself. Your hand moves to the back of his head, your fingers threading through his hair makes him shiver. In an instant, his mouth is on yours again, neither of you holding back this time as months of hidden glances and subtle longing morph into something more profound.

He drags his mouth from your lips to your jaw, your cheeks, and finally to each of your eyelids before he rests his forehead against yours, both of you gasping for air. “I thought I lost you,” he mutters, his voice thick with emotion.

A sorrowful sigh escapes your lips as you whisper, “You did,” your grip tensing painfully in his hair, making him flinch back with a look of confusion, “W-what?” he stutters, his heart racing.

Your expression is one full of love and yearning as you reach for his hand, bringing it to your lips and kissing his knuckles as you say, “You _did_ lose me, Din. This isn’t what really happened that day. Remember?” Your voice is deceptively soft and sweet, his ears start to ache from the sound of it.

He tries to speak but no words come out, his throat closing from some invisible force choking him. _No_. “Why didn’t you check if I was breathing _before_ you brought me back to the ship? Why did you let me die, Din?” you look up at him, tears streaming down your cheeks.

_It wasn’t safe. We had to come back. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve known - I should’ve, I should’ve, I should’ve…_

He wakes with a start, chest tight and head pounding as he’s smothered by the darkness. Swallowing hard, he sits up and slides his feet off the cot until they meet the ice-cold floor of the Razor Crest, a chilling crawling up his spine. He hangs his head between his shoulders, taking slow, measured breaths.

The sound of tiny feet approaching has him lifting his head to find the child attempting to hop onto the bed next to him. It takes him a few tries, but he eventually pulls himself up. Din would’ve chuckled at the little womp rat if his mind wasn’t still plagued by the image of your lifeless body.

The child waddles over to him, placing a tiny hand on Din’s arm as he whimpers softly. Din releases a heavy sigh while he runs a shaky hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to breathe normal again - if he ever will.

He reaches for the child and holds him in his lap, a tiny hand coming to rest on his cheek. Din looks down at him, his chest heavy with sorrow as he whispers, “I know. I miss her, too.”


End file.
